


Relique

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Trope Bingo Round Twelve [9]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Camp Nanowrimo, Gen, Supernatural Elements, Trope Bingo Round 12, Unexpected Friendship, Vampire!Jazz, Vampires, Weird Vampire Compliments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: 'Could that have been a,' and Prowl felt silly just saying it, in the company of a vampire or no, 'ghost?''It's not, I'm pretty sure,' Jazz said, crouching to examine the floor.'Oh?''Yeah. Ghosts don't bleed.'On another artifact-retrieval mission, Prowl and Jazz make an unexpected find.---Relique(noun): An archaic spelling of relic.Relic(noun): 1) a surviving memorial of something past; 2) a surviving trace of something.





	Relique

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org) [Round 12](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/tag/round+twelve). Prompt: Unexpected Friendship
> 
> Based on [this prompt](https://i1.wp.com/thefakeredhead.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/138-writing-prompt-by-TFR-IG.png?zoom=1.25&fit=800%2C800&ssl=1) from The Fake Redhead Writes.

If pressed, Prowl would have been forced to admit that, the initial difficulties of Jazz wanting to bite him aside, working with the vampire had become…not horrible. Prowl did not believe for a second that Jazz's initial attraction to him had faded, but at least these days Jazz did not attempt to express it. They could work together without Jazz staring meaningfully at Prowl's throat or asking him out. Prowl had even had some strategic, and insistently platonic, drinks and meals with him. Jazz had not protested the platonic nature of their interactions or attempted to push them into being something else. Prowl had made it quite clear there would be no 'something else.' To his credit, Jazz had not argued or become defensive at the end of that conversation. He had only nodded and said 'okay.'

Prowl had been on edge for a while, wondering if and when Jazz was going to make another pass at him, but his boundaries had been respected. Slowly, cautiously, Prowl relaxed on that issue, though he had not yet fully let his guard down. It helped that the vampire had, at last, learnt a degree of professionalism and had stopped flirting with anyone during working hours. That gave a degree of sincerity to his actions, suggesting he was not merely trying to lure Prowl.

The stellar-cycle before, Jazz and Prowl had travelled into the ruins of the High Council Pavilions to retrieve any holy artifacts that might remain in the vaults. Many creatures of the Unmaker had sided with the Decepticons - as a vampire allied with the Autobots Jazz was a rarity. That made holy items as necessary to the war effort as ammunition and intelligence. The Matrix was powerful, but it couldn't be everywhere at once. Ammunition and equipment could be blessed, but ammunition ran out, and equipment could be destroyed, or the etched protections damaged enough to render them useless. Holy artifacts were much, much harder to destroy and retrieving them was very important.

In the Pavilions, their planned exit had been blocked by an enclave of vampires on the hunt. They had attempted to take a secondary exit route only to find it blocked by rubble. Jazz had gone to scout ahead, and Prowl had waited in the ruins for him to return. Prowl had had a defensible position, but it had been overrun by an unknown creature. The creature had not been vulnerable to the acid pellets from Prowl's rifle, or to his shock batons. It had gotten him down, damaged the protective etchings on his armour, and would have killed him if Jazz hadn't returned. Jazz had fought and slain the creature, had drunk from it. Unfortunately, fighting and feeding had sent Jazz into the feral state where he would attack and eat _anything,_ and he had attacked Prowl. Prowl had been forced to defend himself, hence the punch and stasis cuffs.

Jazz had also identified Prowl as 'mine' before the attack on the creature. Prowl was not entirely convinced by Jazz's later explanation that he meant Prowl was 'his' as in 'part of his enclave' but accepted it at face value for the sake of peace among the command staff.

That incident aside, their mission to retrieve the artifacts had been successful. It was no surprise, therefore, that they were teamed up and sent out on a similar mission to the catacombs under the Polyhex Cathedral. Polyhex had changed hands between Autobot and Decepticons often and, while it was currently Autobot territory, that could change at any time. Again, Jazz was on the mission for his infiltration skills and ability to sense sacred objects and Prowl for his grasp of which items would be strategically useful and his ability to handle them.

"Your mission is identical to the one you undertook to the vaults of the High Council Pavilions last stellar-cycle," Optimus Prime informed them during their mission briefing. "The priests who evacuated the Cathedral before the last Decepticon incursion brought the larger and more powerful pieces with them, but there was a reliquary on the lowest level of the catacombs containing items they were not able to bring with them. You will retrieve them and return them here, to Iacon."

"Got any idea what's down there?" Jazz asked, sprawled in his chair. "Relic and creepy-crawly wise both?"

Optimus shook his head. "No. It seems even the priests had lost the records containing the specifics."

"Then the items must be either potent, too much so for regular use, or of relatively little value," Prowl speculated.

"The priests I spoke to seemed very sure they would be of value," Prime said with certainty. "The only way to be certain is to retrieve them – and I'm counting on you to do it."

So that was how Prowl once again found himself in the Underground, picking his way through ruins, hoping the fact that Jazz was a superior predator would keep what lived there away. This time, Prowl had some stronger weapons in his arsenal than acid pellet and shock batons, though he hoped never to run into a creature like the one that had attacked him again.

"You okay?" Jazz whispered as they slipped through an old basement into the tunnel leading to the catacombs. The regular entrances to the Cathedral were either barricaded or blocked by rubble. "Can't imagine you're too happy 'bout having to go underground like this again."

"I am not," Prowl admitted. "But it must be done."

Jazz reached back and gave Prowl's wrist a squeeze. His fingers lingered just a little too long, though he let go easily enough when Prowl gently tugged free. "I gotcha, Prowler. You'll be okay."

"Thank you," Prowl said, following Jazz. "But my name is not Prowler."

"It's a nickname."

"I prefer not," Prowl said firmly. "Thank you."

"Prowlie?"

"No."

"I'd suggest 'Prowlmeister' but that'd get confusing." Jazz thought for a moment. "Prowlicious?"

" _Absolutely_ not." Anything reminiscent of 'delicious' simply brought about a reminder of Jazz's desire – whether past or concealed-present – to bite him. Though, Prowl did appreciate Jazz's attempts to take his mind off their location.

"Ooh, yeah," the vampire said, sounding contrite. "I shouldn't have suggested that one. Sorry." But then he added teasingly, "Prowlster."

Prowl sighed. "If I am not to escape being given a nickname, I suppose that one will suffice. If you _must_."

Jazz was ahead of him, but Prowl could _hear_ his grin in his voice. "Knew you'd come around. C'mon, Prowlster. Daylight's burning."

And even the things that lived in the Underground tended to respect the day-night cycle. Prowl did not know if it were a holdover from living above ground, perhaps even before Primes had walked upon Cybertron, or just that the surface had become so unstable a collapse that would let in sunlight was always a concern. Their current plan was to make it to the reliquary, hole up overnight, and retreat the next day in relative safety. Prowl hoped their planned route would not be cut off by hunting vampires or any other manner of creature this time. Jazz was not wrong; Prowl was growing to dislike underground spaces. It was not a phobia, merely an awareness of just how unpredictable the things that lived down here could make any excursion.

The catacombs were a maze, but mostly intact and the priests had given them a map drawn from their own memories. It was relatively accurate and Prowl updated it with corrections in the places it was not, in the event it was needed in future. They made only a few wrong turns before finding the chamber they sought. The reliquary chamber had probably once been a showplace but, as time had passed and the cathedral above grown in size, it had clearly become something of a storeroom. A storeroom for important objects, yes, but a storeroom nonetheless.

"Ooh, yeah," Jazz said, wincing when Prowl opened the reliquary. "Yeah, that's some strong stuff in there. Definitely worth the trip. Some other stuff in here that's good and strong, in these crates. Seven, eight – maybe more. Sometimes strong objects make it hard to detect little ones – like looking for a couple LEDs behind a spotlight."

Prowl considered: they would, of course, acquire the reliquary as it was their primary target but it sounded as if there might be more useable objects than they had planned for. The retrieval of said objects might warrant a second trip – he wouldn't know until they had searched and identified artifacts of use – but there was no guarantee a second mission would be possible. There was also the issue of Jazz not being able to handle sacred objects to subspace them, if he even could. That left it up to Prowl, who would need to maximize storage space and minimize power consumption to bring extras. If he carried his rifle and gave the items currently in his subspace to Jazz (less the boxes of blessed cartridges, of course) he would have extra space. Even then, it would depend on the masses of the other objects. Prowl would have to choose his extras wisely, and he spared a moment to be annoyed with the priests for not providing enough intel. He'd have brought a subspace pocket generator or another mech if he'd known about this.

"I can give you access to my subspace," Jazz said unexpectedly when Prowl explained this to him. "I know, I know, it's personal, but this stuff's important, and I can't exactly handle it myself."

Giving someone access to your subspace was an intimate thing to do. Even prisoners usually just had their subspace access locked down or removed, rather than the pocket emptied by their jailers. Prowl had never had a lover so close he would permit them such access and the idea of being given that access, even for a good cause and logical reason, made him uncomfortable.

"Could you cover your hands?" Prowl asked, helplessly. Jazz looked taken aback as if he hadn't considered that – or maybe hadn't been expecting to be refused - but then it was gone.

"I suppose? Never tried it, but I guess if they were protected or I was fast enough it'd work. I –"

Jazz stopped. Prowl stayed quiet and did not move, though he brought his combat systems online and called his shock batons to his hands. He did not want to use the rifle and risk the acid pellets damaging anything of potential value in the event of overpenetration. The pellets were meant to go through warbuild armour, not the comparatively flimsy metal of storage crates.

' _Heard something_ ,' Jazz sent on a narrow-band short-range frequency. _'That stack of crates to your right. Get behind it._ '

Prowl moved, quietly, to obey. Jazz ghosted across the room to take up a spot pressed against the wall, a short distance from the door.

The door slid open. Prowl could hear short, nervous, steps, but could not see anything.

The steps came into the room, paused. Retreated. Jazz lunged as he made a grab and his hand closed on nothing. The vampire swore and slapped the closing door open again, darting through and checking the hall.

"Nothing. Dammit!" He looked over his shoulder at Prowl, switching to comms because they were faster, nano-kliks or less of burst transmissions rather than kliks of spoken words. ' _Didn't scan anything. You?_ '

' _No,_ ' Prowl answered, cautiously stepping out from his partial cover.

' _Any ideas?_ '

' _Could that have been a,_ ' and Prowl felt silly just saying it, in the company of a vampire or no, ' _ghost?_ ' He'd never seen any evidence that met his standards of such things existing, but then again he was also on a mission, with a vampire, to retrieve sacred objects for use in a civil war.

' _It's not, I'm pretty sure,_ ' Jazz said, crouching to examine the floor.

_'Oh?'_

' _Yeah._ ' Jazz bent down and sniffed the floor, then looked up into the darkness of the corridor. ' _Ghosts don't bleed. Ain't much blood, but I can smell it. Whatever it was, it's got energon in its lines – living energon. Ain't a vampire either. It's like – like a mix of scents. Don't know what it is for sure, but I wanna find out._ '

' _So do I_ ,' Prowl said in agreement. ' _Is it bleeding enough you can track it?_ '

' _Yeah._ ' Jazz twisted to look at Prowl. ' _I'm gonna go fast. Keep up if you can and remember, I ain't feral this time around. Whatever it is, I'll be able to keep from feeding, don't worry._ '

Prowl took out a blaster, set it to stun just in case, something he doubted Jazz missed even if the vampire didn't comment on it. ' _I'm not._ ' He was being practical, that was all. ' _Go. I'll catch up to you._ '

' _You got it._ ' With that, Jazz was out the door, Prowl on his heels.

Straight ahead ten mechano-meters, a right, straight for eight-point-five mechano-meters, a left. The crash of two metal bodies impacting each other forcefully. Right, straight, and left again and Prowl found Jazz crouched next to a dirty, gasping, mech-shaped being that was clutching a forearm bleeding energon. Prowl slowed and approached cautiously.

"Are you…?" Prowl asked.

"I'm fine," Jazz told him. He straightened slowly and reached down to help the unknown possible-person up. "They're just a mech. Hurt, scared, needing fuel, but definitely a mech. I got the scent properly when I got close." To the mech, he added, "sorry 'bout the tackle. We didn’t know who or what you were. Don't got to worry now, though. We're Autobots, we ain't gonna hurt you."

"As he says," Prowl agreed. He put his weapon away. "Bring them back with us. We can at least see to that wound."

"Th-thank you," the mech whispered. "Please, if you – if you have any fuel to spare, I…"

"Yeah, mech," Jazz said, almost gently. "We got some fuel for you. C'mon."

' _He's bleeding freely_ ,' Prowl said to Jazz over comms. The injury must have reopened during the chase or when Jazz tackled them. ' _Are you alright?_ _Will that bother you?_ '

' _Yeah, I'll be fine. He's got a rust infection going in that injury, pretty sure. That and all the dirt makes his energon unappetizing. Keeps the vamp down._ '

' _Take a break if you need it._ ' Prowl looked the mech over. ' _I don't think I'll be in any danger from this one._ '

' _Thanks, Prowl._ '

As they brought the stranger back to the storeroom, Prowl wondered if he had been merely looking for fuel, or staying there. There was no evidence of such, but then their guest didn't look as if he had any evidence to leave. Even the dirt on his frame looked as if anything that would shake free had done so long ago.

In one corner was a fairly ornate chair that probably would have been used for dignitaries, relatively clean and in perfect repair. Prowl had no compunction about bringing it out and seating someone who was perhaps the next best thing to an Empty in it. Jazz took up a guard position while Prowl pulled out his first aid kit and began to dilute medical grade energon with coolant, half a cube of each. The mech didn't look like they could handle straight energon right now.

"Sip," Prowl ordered, holding the energon cube out to them. "Slowly. While you're doing that, I'll attend to your wound, and then we'll have some questions for you."

"Th-thank you." The mech sipped cautiously, then a little more eagerly a few nano-kliks later when their systems didn't try to reject it. Med-grade with coolant wasn't exactly the best tasting of fuels, but the mech looked as if they'd never had anything better in their life. "When I saw you I thought…I don't know what I thought. It's been so long…"

"Here," Prowl pulled out a pack of cleaning wipes. He could see the mech was injured and he could also see there was a concerning amount of dirt in the wound. "Give me your arm. I'm going to clean the what dirt I can from your injury so I can get a better look at it."

"Alright." The mech hesitantly held out his arm and, with the other, cradled his energon closer, as if he was afraid it would be taken from him.

Prowl recognized the body language. It told him that the mech, like many refugees who managed to make their way to Autobot strongholds, had been running on low power for a very long time. Prowl let the mech drink while he carefully cleaned dirt and rust from the edges of the wound, making sure to clean the armour around it as well so a field dressing would adhere when he was done. Below the dirt, the mech had white armour, civilian grade but expensive.

Prowl hadn't seen someone with civilian-grade armour in a long time. He took a can of compressed air from the first-aid kit and blasted loose dirt and debris free of the wound. Not as much as he would have liked came free. That was troubling, especially since the injury looked like it a bite of some kind. Prowl hoped the mech didn't have too severe of a rust infection under the layers of dirt and dead repair nanites. The rust on the edges of the wound would need to be filed away, but he didn't have the tools to do it here without flakes of rust falling into the injury. It would keep until they got to a repair facility.

"I'm Prowl of Praxus," Prowl told them, including a databurst with his ID. He set aside the compressed air and reached for isopropyl alcohol and a microfibre cloth. "My associate is - Jazz," he finished with only a brief hesitation as he realized he didn't know Jazz's place of origin. "What is your designation?"

The stranger bowed his head. "I'm not sure it matters any longer. My House is gone, my city is gone."

"Yeah, but you got a Sigma ability," Jazz pointed out. There was an edge to his voice, faint but there, when he mentioned Sigma abilities, that Prowl didn't like. "Mecha'll be able to figure out who you are, what with the invisibility and all."

The mech's head jerked up, and he stared at Jazz. "What – how do you know that? My House made arrangements to keep that knowledge secret."

Prowl stayed silent, carefully using the alcohol as he continued to clean the wound. He didn't have the tools to get into the more delicate parts but if he could get the worst of it off self-repair might be able to handle it. At the least, it would keep it from getting worse till they could get to an actual medic.

"If it's recorded somewhere, someone can find it," Jazz answered bluntly. "And I've found out a whole lot 'bout mecha with Sigma abilities. So go on, mech, what's your designation?"

"You sound like you know it already," the mech said, eyeing Jazz suspiciously. Prowl would like to know, too, why Jazz had such knowledge of mecha with Sigma abilities. If the mech's House had paid to hide it, it couldn't have been easy to get to, not something Jazz could have found casually.

Jazz shrugged. "Yeah, but your designation ain't mine to tell. 'Sides, you wouldn't be the first mech to use the war to take on a new ident. You wanna do that, ain't none of my business."

Prowl filed the tidbit of information about taking on a new identity away to puzzle over later. It might help explain why he didn't know Jazz's place of origin. He _should_ , he supposed, but it had never seemed necessary before. With so many cities and towns gone, the habit of introducing oneself by one's place of origin was often omitted from greetings entirely, these days.

The mech stared at Jazz for a while, until Prowl thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally, he said, "Very well. My designation is Mirage of Vespertine Blue."

Jazz nodded. "Figured. Know a few things about you beyond the Sigma thing, too. You're a priest, right?"

Mirage looked up, face a mask of sorrow. "I-I would have been. Before…"

"Before Crystal City," Prowl said softly, drying the cleaned wound with a blast of compressed air. He looked into the Mirage's optics, expensive, strong, crystal set in sculpted, modish features. Being from Vespertine Blue didn't guarantee your family had wealth, but it was a fairly good indicator that they likely did. Mirage's had, Prowl had no doubt. Even through the grime Prowl could see the quality of Mirage's structure. "Before the Towers fell."

"Yes," Mirage murmured. He had finished his diluted energon and Prowl paused in his repairs long enough to make him more.

"How'd you wind up down here?" Jazz wanted to know. It was a good question, Prowl thought. The destruction of Crystal City had been so fast, and so ruthless that there were very few survivors. "And did you really make it all the way from Vespertine Blue in Crystal City to this side of Polyhex all on your own?"

"I was in the family chapel when the attack came," Mirage told them in a low voice. "It's below ground – to get closer to Primus, you know. We have – we-we _had_ one of the oldest Towers, it went further down than most expected. Layers of streets over the millennia built the ground up around – anyway. The bombing started and – and we must have been one of the first places hit. I couldn't get out. For a long time, I couldn't get out. I was trapped. I…" He broke off, clearly needing a few nano-kliks to compose himself.

Prowl stayed silent, adding a generous smearing amount of nanite gel to the wound. It might be too much for it, but any nanites not needed to repair it would migrate to where they were needed or would integrate into Mirage's existing colonies. Mirage had to have some degree of indigenous nanites left, or he would be in far worse shape. Undoubtedly he had been kept in peak condition right up until the attack on Crystal City.

"Towers fell a while ago," Jazz noted. "The Underground's a mess, but it doesn't take that long to get from Crystal City to here even walking. Easier for a mech can turn invisible."

"I was trapped in the chapel for meta-cycles," the stranger answered. "In stasis, mostly, though I brought myself out of it every so often to see if I could get free. First once a deca-cycle, then every two and so on. Eventually, part of it the chapel's flooring gave way, and I could climb down into the tunnels. I hid, stole energon where I could. I thought – if I could make it to Iacon I could be safe." Polyhex had been in Decepticon hands when Crystal City fell. "I didn't expect…the Underground is…there are…things, Decepticon patrols sometimes, Empties…"

"Do you spend much time invisible?" Prowl asked, sealing the field dressing around the wound. "That seems like it would take a lot of energy."

"It does. I tried not to use it, only when necessary. Covered myself in-in dirt and moved slowly, tried to look like any other Empty. They leave those alone…mostly." Mirage did not entirely manage to conceal his shiver.

"Had a few run-ins have you?" Jazz asked rhetorically, and not ungently, very deliberately not asking what kind of encounters those had been. "Yeah. The dirt's probably why I couldn't tell what you were at first. Too many scents."

"Yes. I-I had never been dirty before. Not _really_ dirty." Mirage looked down at the area around the wound, where Prowl had cleaned a broad swath so the field dressing would adhere, and touched them, hesitantly, as if he'd forgotten what they were. He looked back up at Prowl. "You're Autobots, you said."

"We are," Prowl confirmed.

"Even the vampire," Jazz added, fake-cheerfully. "Don't worry, mech, not gonna bite you."

"I – wasn't going to ask," Mirage murmured. A little self-deprecating humour appeared. "I imagine I'm not too appealing at the moment, anyway."

"You knew?" Prowl asked Mirage, surprised.

It was Jazz who answered. "Priests are trained to sense vampires – among other things."

"I couldn't sense you through the door," Mirage confessed, "or I wouldn't have opened it. It's been getting harder to use that training."

"Low fuel," Prowl murmured.

"Yes." Mirage cradled the new energon cube to his chest. "Please, I – will you take me with you?"

"We will," Prowl answered before Jazz could. "We will see you are cleaned, repaired, and fuelled. What you do after that is up to you."

"Why were you headed to Iacon in the first place?" Jazz wanted to know. "Just seeking safety?"

"I – yes. I-I didn't really have a plan beyond that."

"Could always use more priests, if that's still what you want," Jazz offered. "But we've got places for a mech that can turn invisible too – if you don't want to go the holy-mech route."

"You don't have to decide right now," Prowl countered. "We're planning to stay overnight in this room, then head out during daytime tomorrow."

Mirage nodded. "That's what I've been doing. Moving during the day. Only at night when I have to."

"You still got subspace access, Mirage?" Jazz asked. The vampire looked over at Prowl. "Could solve our artifact-transportation problem."

"I don't yet, but I'll reroute my self-repair to prioritize it," Mirage said. "It's the least I can do."

Prowl inclined his head in thanks. "Thank you, Mirage." He gave the injured mech some more energon, not diluted this time. "Take your time drinking this. I'll leave the pack of cleaning wipes here if you want to clean up as you can. Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until we get back to base and the washracks to get truly clean." Mirage accepted the pack with a murmur of thanks and Prowl changed topics. "Have you spent any time in this room?"

"I recharged here last night," Mirage said. "I spent today exploring what I could of the Cathedral, above, but there was nothing. I meant to move on today, but I heard something down in the catacombs, burned too much fuel being invisible trying to get to safety, running…"

"Did you search for anything in here?" Prowl continued. "Fuel, supplies?"

"There's no fuel. No supplies." He gave a humourless laugh. "Not even a turbo-rat."

"Too bad," Jazz said. Prowl looked at him. Jazz shrugged. "There's good eating on a turbo-rat."

Prowl stared, unsure if the vampire were joking. Mirage stared as well, then broke into laughter. There was a distinct edge of hysteria to it, and he almost visibly caught himself back after only a few nano-kliks.

"I-I'm sorry," he said, head down. "That….none of this is funny."

"It ain't," Jazz agreed, "but sometimes you gotta laugh anyway. That, or fall apart. You take a few, okay? Prowl and I are going to search the room for anything you might've missed."

Jazz went to a crate, opened it, and silently pointed out two artifacts he thought Prowl should take. Prowl removed them, waited to see if Jazz would select anything else, then closed the crate and set the objects on top. They repeated this through the room.

' _Do you believe him?_ ' Prowl asked Jazz via comms as they searched. The vampire had better people-reading skills than Prowl, something the tactician readily admitted was not hard to achieve.

' _Yes. The history he gave fits with what I know about Mirage of Vespertine Blue, priest-in-training, Sigma ability lets him turn invisible._ ' Jazz poked through a few boxes as well, purely out of curiosity, but not through any that might have something that would hurt him.

Prowl gave him a sideways glance. ' _How_ do _you know so much about him? And why?_ '

Jazz rifled through a box of fabric items Prowl didn't recognize; he had never been one for worship and actual fabric, not something made of vinyl, was not something the average Cybertronian ever got to see. ' _I know a lot about a lot of things, Prowlster. Might even tell you all the whys and wherefores someday._ _Doesn't have anything to do with the Autobots, so don't worry about it._ '

' _I'm not worried about the Autobots, I'm worried about you,_ ' Prowl countered, surprised to find out how much he meant it. ' _There was something in your voice when you mentioned Sigma abilities._ '

' _Aw, you're worried about little old me?_ '

' _Yes._ '

Jazz paused in surprise, if only briefly. He came back with teasing. ' _Prowlster! I didn't know you cared!_ '

' _I do. We are…_ ' Prowl felt suddenly nervous, wondering if he should say this, but pushed on, ' _we are friends, are we not?_ '

Jazz smiled, warm and genuine. ' _Yeah. Yeah, we are. Who'd've thought, huh?_ '

Prowl smiled back, made shy by Jazz's acceptance, by the ghosts of past hurts. He still didn't entirely trust that the vampire didn't want more from him, but friendship he could accept. ' _Indeed_.'

They completed their search and Prowl took stock of the artifacts they had found. He coordinated with Jazz, still over comms, to determine which were the most valuable and, of those, which they should take.

Mirage had finished his energon and followed Prowl's suggestion of cleaning his face. Prowl could only imagine how it felt to get clean after all this time. He had also curled up on the floor, his back to the wall, and gone into recharge. Either he trusted them not to harm him or his self-repair systems, now they were fuelled, demanded it, and he had had little choice. He was still dirty and clearly in need of medical care, but Prowl couldn't help thinking he must be quite attractive when clean, feeling safe, and functioning correctly.

Prowl took the thermal blankets from their first-aid kits and covered Mirage; the noble would get a deeper rest, and his systems would work more efficiently if they didn't have to regulate his temperature as well. Mirage would be less of a liability during exfiltration if he were in better condition and, while they couldn't do much more for him, they could do that. Prowl and Jazz were repaired and working at peak efficiency and would be able to recharge without a bed, pad, or blanket for several nights if necessary.

Prowl took first shift on guard, Jazz second. Mirage slept straight through the night, which was uneventful except for one instance Jazz reported of something scratching and growling at the door. Jazz had snarled back, he said, and the threat of a vampire had been sufficient to send whatever it was away.

Prowl was more relieved than he wanted to admit. He had had enough of Underground creatures and knowing he was almost certainly not done encountering them was unpleasant.

"I have enough energy to open my subspace briefly," Mirage told Prowl when asked. "But I won't be able to open it again until I'm further fuelled – and I won't be able to turn invisible for more than ten nano-kliks." Apologetically he added, "I rated those systems a lower priority for energy, now that I don't have to rely on just myself for defence."

Freeing up energy for repairs and subspace access, which he may have felt was his trade for their assistance whether that was true or not, Prowl noted. Solid choices.

"We appreciate your assistance in transporting these items," Prowl said. "Proper fuelling awaits you at our base. You can retrieve the items then."

Prowl took the reliquary in his subspace. Mirage took most of the rest of their salvage. Jazz wound up carrying some artifacts after all; he wrapped some of the cloth he'd found around his hands and worked fast. Prowl was fascinated by the fact that he didn't seem worried about the presence of holy artifacts in his subspace. Did the pocket dimension protect him somehow? It was not, technically, a part of his body so perhaps it was not affected by sacred items. Prowl would have to run that by Wheeljack, who had a reasonably decent grasp of how magic and science interacted.

Jazz took point, Prowl the rear. Mirage they put between them, though quite frankly if anything happened to either himself or Jazz, Prowl didn't rate the mech's chances without his invisibility. If he were honest with himself Prowl wasn't sure how the mech had made it this far, Sigma ability or no. Prowl doubted life in the Towers prepared one for trying to journey through the infested chaos of Cybertron's Underground. Yet journey Mirage had, thus far at least, and no matter how hard it had been he had survived. If he were recruited and trained he could be a valuable asset to the Autobots, Prowl surmised.

Jazz was undoubtedly thinking the same thing, would want Mirage for the Spec Ops division. Prowl agreed with the decision, given Mirage's ability, and decided he would support it.

If Mirage would be recruited, of course.

The trip back was, to Prowl's unexpressed relief, relatively uneventful. Things vocalized and scrabbled in the shadows, in the tunnels they didn't take, as they had on the way in, but did not attempt to attack. Perhaps the creatures here were less brave than those that lived under Iacon. Prowl didn't care either way, so long as they did not come near.

Prowl was relieved to leave the Underground tunnels, but he didn't relax until they were on the transport, heading back to Autobase Iacon. Hoist had cleaned Mirage's wound further, scouring away the rust safely, and had given him another dose of repair nanites before bandaging it again. Mirage was not recharging, but he was in low-power mode, watching the unfamiliar members of the exfiltration team. Prowl wondered if his ease at recharging last night had been trust or mere exhaustion.

Jazz had placed himself between Mirage and the mecha unfamiliar to the noble, clearly indicating that Mirage was safe and protected. A stellar-cycle ago Prowl would have thought such a gesture was a prelude to coaxing Mirage closer, to seducing him into letting Jazz bite him. Prowl calculated only a forty-six-point-eight-three-three percent chance that was the case, where it would have been a virtual certainty a stellar cycle before. Prowl was not sure what the remaining fifty-three-point-one-six-seven percent signified, whether it was a genuine offer of friendship, an attempt at comfort or security, or the beginnings of an effort to recruit Mirage to Special Operations.

' _Are you developing plans for Mirage already?_ ' Prowl asked. Jazz flashed him a grin.

' _Maybe. Be a good asset in Spec Ops, don't you think?_ '

' _Yes_.' Prowl treasured the look of surprise that flashed across Jazz's face when Prowl agreed with him. ' _Does it bother you at all that he was trained to be a priest?_ '

' _Trained to be but isn't. Didn't get the sacraments. Don't think he will be one, either._ ' Jazz gave Mirage a sidelong glance. ' _Something changed for him. Sometimes things send us down roads we didn't expect. He's been through more than one of those things._ '

Prowl had a feeling Jazz wasn't referring to just Mirage. He tentatively put forth an offer. ' _Jazz. If you ever want or need to speak with someone about…anything, you can come to me. I am…not good with interpersonal interaction, but I will listen._ '

 _'You're better than you think you are,_ ' was Jazz's immediate response. ' _Thanks, Prowlster. I might do that. You're a good friend._ ' 'Friend' was tagged with unfamiliar markers that, once Prowl looked them up, meant 'prized enclave member,' and 'to be bitten showing care' – that last an unusual and thoroughly vampiric compliment, apparently.

Prowl took it at face value.

Prowl sent warm, appreciative glyphs and markers back to Jazz. ' _Thank you, Jazz. As are you._ ' An unexpected friend, particularly after their fractious start, but a friend even so.

' _Almost missed it, too,_ ' Jazz said reflectively. ' _You're the only mech ever made me glad to have been punched in the face, Prowlster._ '

Prowl's reflexive laugh startled the other passengers on the transport, but neither he nor Jazz would ever tell what had been so amusing.

**Author's Note:**

> Info on how to clean computer components courtesy of [CNET](https://www.cnet.com/how-to/how-to-clean-the-inside-of-your-computer/).
> 
> I don't remember where I tripped across the idea of Mirage having been a priest but I'm adopting it.


End file.
